Never mind that weak shit

You know, I don't really like the soundtrack from Juno. I don't like "Dry" by PJ Harvey. I don't like Cat Power. I can just barely abide a few of the current crop of adorable little songlets if and only if they feature the ukulele prominently.

What I do like just arrived in the mail and it is keeping me up late like a new girlfriend: Nuggets Volume II Original Artyfacts From The British Empire and Beyond- 1964-1969. We start right off with "Making Time" by The Creation and go from there. This is real music. What's funny is that it doesn't sound the least bit dated. I like the San Francisco volume of Nuggets, but those songs sound OLD. This stuff just rocks like crazy. I still ain't got no taste. None.

I don't have any time either. I get up at 3:45 AM every day and I get home at 6:45 PM every night. In between I am at work. I'll admit that I don't work the whole time. Being a senior man, I don't work much at all. What I do is sleep in the back of parked buses. Go for walks around the GREAT CITY OF SF, Eat healthy stuff and talk shit with other bus drivers.

What I don't do is sleep in my own bed. Clean my own house or talk to many people who aren't bus drivers. I love bus drivers, sort of, but there's no denying we're pretty much nuts.

I'd like to post some poetry here. I'd like to express an opinion on current events. I'd like to meditate upon my spiritual path. It ain't gonna happen. Not happening this weekend either. I'm off to Spider Murphy's to get my rocket ship sleeve worked on. In the great scheme of things it's ashes, like my arm, but in the slightly smaller scheme of things it'll be swell, and beautiful and I can point to it with pride. Next monday, I'll go back to work sore and cranky with some gnarly looking scabbed over tattoo shit.